Measure Up
by Channel D
Summary: Tony hits an insecure moment in his life, and it takes Gibbs a little while to get the story from him. Ficlet written for the NFA Haiti Relief auction. Drama, father/son friendship. One-shot.


**Measure Up**

**by channelD**

_written as_: an NFA Haiti Relief ficlet.

_rating_: K

_characters_: Tony, Gibbs (non-slash)

_genre_: drama

_set in_: season 1, after _High Seas._

_prompt_: the auction donator requested a Tony-Gibbs father/son story with an unexpected hobby. I hope this works.

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_disclaimer_: I still own nothing of NCIS.

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Tony waved and ran for the sedan as it pulled into the puddle of streetlight light, opening the passenger door before it had come to a complete stop. "Thanks for coming, boss! I thought I'd have to be here until morning."

"What are you doing out here at this time of night, Tony? This is 70 miles from DC." Gibbs grunted, his voice a little raspy. Only for one of his team members, who'd sounded desperate on the phone, would Gibbs leave his bed at 2:30 a.m. in the middle of the work week.

"I was, uh…my car broke down. I was able to limp it to the service station across the street, and they'll look at it in the morning. But I didn't have enough cash to pay for a cab home, and the local cab scompany doesn't take credit cards, and they say it's five miles to the closest ATM…"

Gibbs noticed the fact that Tony still hadn't said _why_ he was out here in western Maryland, so late at night. He only said to him, "Do you want to go home, or to NCIS? It'll be close to 5 by the time we get back to DC."

"I guess so," Tony sighed. "I have a change of clothes there…will that be an inconvenience to you, boss?" he added.

"Nah. I'm set with fresh clothes there, too." He noticed that Tony carried a briefcase. "Don't think I've ever seen you with that, before."

A streetlight shone on them as they passed by, and to Gibbs, Tony looked a little embarrassed. "It's uh, it's got my hobby inside," Tony said, clutching the handle tightly. "Uh, you probably want to know what it is."

"If you want to tell me."

"Well, uh, it's like this…" Tony started, and then clammed up.

"Tony, you've been acting a little squirrely since we got back from the _Enterprise. _Did Stan Burley say something—"

"No," Tony said swiftly. "He's an okay guy."

Gibbs couldn't stand it any longer. "Tony, if you've got a problem, you need to tell me. I can't have your personal life affecting the team, and I can't help you if I don't know what it is."

There was silence for awhile. Then Tony sighed. "All right. It _is_ Stan."

"What? What is Stan?"

"He's perfect. You must have been sad when he left your team, boss. He's like a model agent."

"Well…"

"And not only that, but he's accomplished in sports and, well…everything."

Gibbs waited.

"I just thought…" Tony said. "…thought that if I was good at something, _anything_…"

"What's in the briefcase, Tony?"

"Well, it started when I was a kid. When my mother was still alive. We took a trip somewhere, and at a museum, I saw one of those machines that make pressed pennies. You know, you feed it a quarter and a penny, and turn a crank, and it'll flatten the penny and stamp a design on it?"

"Yep. Seen 'em."

"I was fascinated. And I started collecting these, everywhere I went. I sought out other collectors and started swapping with them. I have now a collection of over 5,000 coins."

"Worth anything?"

Tony hung his head. "A little. I dunno. I hadn't thought much about it for a couple of years, and then I met Burley, and…"

"You were out here tonight to meet another collector, is that it?"

"Yeah. Only, he didn't show. People can be flakey. He said he had a penny from the 1893 Columbian Exposition, in Chicago. That was where pressed pennies originated. I've always wanted one of those."

"Did you want to impress someone?" Gibbs ventured.

"Maybe." Tony sighed. "You. Or Kate. Stupid, I know."

"You didn't try calling Kate before you called me?"

"No. I can imagine what she'd say: _'You're drunk, DiNozzo.'_ And she'd hang up on me."

They both laughed.

"Why do you think you need to impress us, Tony? Or me, anyway?"

Tony looked haunted, under the light of a stoplight. "Because I can't think of a way that I can measure up to Burley, boss. I never can. But maybe if I had something else going for me…"

Gibbs pulled the car off the highway and stopped it. "Tony, what I care about is you doing a good job, and you do that…better than good. No, you're not Stan Burley; but you're your own man. Stan had his quirks…" Gibbs noticed that Tony perked up at that, but he wasn't going to give him details. "…and his good points, too. I liked you, and appreciated you, before we met up with Stan. And I still like you and appreciate you. You don't need to show off a hobby. Just be yourself."

Tony smiled. "Thanks." The world seemed a lot better now.

"Oh, by the way, I can't drive you back to get your car today. Maybe Kate can."

"Kate?" Tony groaned.

"Charm her, Tony. Show her some attractive pressed pennies." They both grinned as Gibbs pulled back onto the highway.

-END-


End file.
